


ain't no sleepin' off here

by Omeganixtra



Series: Destiny Fictober 2019 [30]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Character Death, Fictober 2019, Gen, cayde loves his brother, i legit cried over this what the hell?, the death of andal brask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-26 22:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21381427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omeganixtra/pseuds/Omeganixtra
Summary: Taniks did this. Taniks took Andal’s everything—his Light, his Ghost, even his life that fucking son of a whore is taking with every moment that passes.
Relationships: Andal Brask & Cayde-6
Series: Destiny Fictober 2019 [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510997
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	ain't no sleepin' off here

**Author's Note:**

> day 30: "I'm with you, you know that."

For all of the time that Cayde has enjoyed his sixth reboot, the times where he has felt pure, unadulterated _fear_ has thus far been wonderfully lacking.

Lacking until _today_.

“I-I’m with you, Andal!” Cayde whispers. “I’m right here, buddy—just hang on.”

Blood is smeared everywhere in the small storage room that Cayde has managed to get the two of them barricaded in. Cannisters for ether litters the floor and there is a bag of something unrecognizable stashed in one of the corners.

“Cayde?”

Andal sounds… small.

He sounds so scarily small as he’s lying there in the Cayde’s arms, blood dripping from his broken nose and from the cut above his brow. The light in here is sickly yellow and Andal’s normally warm and tanned skin looks and feels much more pale and brittle than Cayde logically knows he really should be.

“H-hey there, bud,” Cayde swallows and rubs as the blood caking around Andal’s cheekbone. “How you doin’?”

“I—I don’t,” Andal is interrupted by a violent bout of coughing and Cayde screams inside when his internal systems categorize the fluids leaking out between his lips as a mixture of blood and saliva. “I don’t want to go, Cayde.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Andal, don’t you worry,” Cayde tries to reassure his friend, he really does, but even he can tell that Andal's not sounding too hot right now.

Andal continues on as if Cayde never even said anything, completely oblivious to the situation that the two of them are in.

“Never should have left w-without backup, should’a told someone that I was leave—”

“And you’ll do that next time, Andal!” Cayde snaps at him, grabbing the clean cloth that Sundance transmats into his hand and pressing it against the gasp stretching across Andal’s chest. “Just—fuck’s sake—you have to hold on, Andal, _please_!”

“D-don’t leave me, Cayde!” Andal pleads—he fucking _pleads_ and Cayde feels like crying because Andal has never pleaded with him for as long as he’s known him.

He settles with a wobbly sob instead.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head for a moment there, Andal,” Cayde manages to choke out and the hand resting against Andal’s cheekbone comes up to smooth blood matted, oily hair backwards, out of Andal’s face so that Cayde can see his large, glassy eyes blink slowly—_unseeing_—up at him. “I’m with you, you know that.”

Taniks did this. Taniks took Andal’s everything—his Light, his Ghost, even his life that fucking son of a whore is taking with every moment that passes.

And it doesn’t really seem like Taniks will allow either of them to leave—at least not _alive_.

Then Andal stiffens in his arms, and Cayde fumbles as he tries to see what is wrong.

“Andal? _Andal_?!”

“I—I can’t hear ‘im, Cayde,” Andal sobs. “_I can’t hear my Ghost anymore_.”

Cayde’s optics closes and he holds Andal tighter as the human sobs, half in grief and half in pain.

He continues to hold him, doesn’t say a word as he slowly rocks the sobbing, hysterical, bleeding human in his arms, presses his lips to his forehead, his cheeks, his lips—any skin that Cayde can reach on Andal he touches.

He continues to hold him as Andal grows quieter, as his breathing turns labored and wheezy from the blood slowly filling his lungs.

He continues to hold him as his Vanguard, his friend, his brother takes his last breath at last, tears still wet on his cheeks and smeared blood across his face as if they’ve just gotten scot-free out of a tussle back home, and the two of them are simply sleeping it off.

But Andal isn’t sleeping anything off—he’ll never wake again to crack a joke or down a shot or annoy Zavala or hug Cayde silly ever again.

“I’m with you, Andal,” Cayde chokes out and holds on tighter, desperately trying to hold back the violent roar that his voicebox is _aching _to let loose.

And Cayde finally lets it.


End file.
